


it all started with a keg stand

by LaLionne (otayuriistheliteralbest)



Series: Voltron Bingo Works [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Fade to Black, Falling In Love, Halloween, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/LaLionne
Summary: Keith tried to remember why he’d had so much to drink, but it came through as glimpses of the night, like he was watching the trailer to a movie. Lance and Pidge had pulled Keith out of his post-breakup wallowing, forcing him into a white t-shirt that read, “This is my spooky ghost costume (act scared)” that was definitely a size or two too small for him. There had been a couple inches of exposed skin between his jeans and the hem of the shirt, and he felt like he would tear it if he’d moved the wrong way.He’d ended up doing a keg stand - THAT'S where the sour taste in his mouth that morning came from - and the rest of the night was a blur. There was a vague impression in his mind of a chiseled jaw, muscles, and star-filled grey eyes, but he couldn’t remember anything beyond that.





	it all started with a keg stand

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Voltron Bingo Sheith card: College AU square.

Keith stared blearily down at his espresso machine, not for the first time lamenting his taste in coffee that lead him to buy the thing. Not because it was a terrible machine, no, but because he was hungover as hell from the Halloween parties he’d gone to the night before and making his own latte was....loud. Why couldn’t he just have a Kreuig like Lance and Hunk and suffer through the taste? Keith grimaced and closed one eye, squinting at the grinder as he pressed the button. A loud, infernal noise pounded into his skull as the blades whirred inside the machine, and it was blessed relief when it finally stopped.

He went through the motions of making his latte, scooping the grinds into the portafilter, tamping them, twisting the knob on his little espresso machine to pull the shots. Keith almost forgot to set his timer, snatching up his phone from his pocket. He guesstimated at the gap in time from when he’d started the pull and turned it off before the 28 seconds were up on the timer. He didn’t even remember steaming his almond milk.

Finally, with blessed relief, Keith finished making the coffee. The first sip felt like heaven, and Keith slumped down onto the couch to wallow in his previous night’s drunken stupidity. He tried to remember why he’d had so much to drink, but it came through as glimpses of the night, like he was watching the trailer to a movie. Lance and Pidge had pulled Keith out of his post-breakup wallowing, forcing him into a white t-shirt that read, “This is my spooky ghost costume (act scared)” that was definitely a size or two too small for him. There had been a couple inches of exposed skin between his jeans and the hem of the shirt, and he felt like he would tear it if he’d moved the wrong way.

They’d hopped from one college party to the next, and Keith was starting to cheer up at the ridiculous antics of his friends when he’d stumbled into Darren at the Meditation House.

Keith groaned, rubbing his face with the hand not holding his coffee cup. To be fair, he should have known better at the time than to follow his friends to that particular party, but he hadn’t realized where they were going until they were at the front door, and he couldn’t very well turn back.

Darren was all sweetness and sad eyes, rubbing his hand along Keith’s shoulder, asking how he was doing. He had no right, not after he’d broken up with Keith for being “distant” and “cold.” Which was how Keith had ended up ditching his friends and making his way to one of the frat houses. They were rowdy and exactly what Keith needed.

He’d ended up doing a keg stand -  _ that’s _ where the sour taste in his mouth that morning came from - and the rest of the night was a blur.

Keith nursed his latte, taking his time to make sure that his stomach wouldn’t reject the much-needed caffeine. Keith groaned. There was a vague impression in his mind of a chiseled jaw, muscles, and star-filled grey eyes, but he couldn’t remember anything beyond that. He cursed and drained the rest of his coffee cup, slamming the empty cup down on the coffee table and winced at the loud noise. He checked his phone; thirty minutes until his shift at the college bookstore.

Keith heaved himself off of the worn down couch, stretching to try to loosen up his aching bones. He trudged over to the dresser in the side of his studio apartment, rummaging in the dresser drawers for clean-ish clothing that his boss wouldn’t frown at him for wearing. He was sure that he’d be reeking of last night’s alcohol and weed as it was, and he didn’t have time to shower anymore.

Keith rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up, and threw on his jacket on the way out the door.

—

Shiro blinked in the bright morning light, memories of the boy from the night before flashing through his mind. He had seen him around campus before, but they had never interacted before last night. He grinned, looking down at the felt tip-scrawl of Keith’s phone number on his palm, and flung the blankets off his thickly-muscled legs. He’d plugged his dead phone in when he got home the night before and hurried to turn it on, impatiently tapping his foot on the hardwood floor of his bedroom as the screen lit up.

He checked the time. Still early, almost noon, and maybe too early for a phone call, so he typed the number in to his phone with shaky hands and sent Keith a text.

_ >hey keith? This is shiro, from the frat house party. I had fun hanging with you last night, you want to grab coffee? _

The message sent, and was almost immediately marked as “viewed.” Shiro sweated bullets waiting for a response, his heart jumping when the three little dots showed up on his screen, then went away, then showed up again. This happened a couple of times, and he started to worry that maybe he’d gotten the wrong number, or that Keith didn’t want anything to do with him...

What he got, instead, was:

_ <sorry, i dont remember much about last night. woke up with the hangover from hell _

Shiro’s shoulders drooped. Of course the cute boy with the smile that made his heart race didn’t remember him.

_ >that’s a shame. _

_ >still, wanna get coffee? My treat, from the sound of it you’ll need it today. _

He hoped he wasn’t coming off too strong...The little dots appeared again.

_ <i get off wrk at 3. meet me at the campus cafe _

Shiro grinned.

_ >you got it! See you then. _

He closed his phone and flopped back down on the bed, hoping he could salvage this.

—

Keith had no idea what this Shiro looked like, but he really, really hoped that he was the guy with the jawline he remembered from the night before. He was distracted for the rest of his shift, and Kolivan yelled at him more than once for dozing off at the register or in the back room. It didn’t matter, the old man gave him slack because he was dating Keith’s mom, the whole reason Keith had gotten the job in the first place. Not that he’d complain, he needed the money to pay for his apartment. That was the condition Krolia had set when he said he didn’t want to live in the house his junior year of college.

At three on the dot, Keith shucked his black bookstore apron.

“Kolivan, I’m heading out!” he called into the office. Kolivan didn’t turn around, just waved his hand in Keith’s general direction, and he took that as the okay to leave.

He threw on his black beanie over tousled hair and slung his red leather jacket on. There was a chill in the air as the seasons continued to change, and he wished he’d thought to grab his scarf on the way out that morning. Keith stuffed his hands into leather jacket pockets and trudged the few blocks to the Altea Cafe.

For a college campus cafe, it was actually pretty decent. There was plenty of seating, with plush couches and plenty of outlets all over the place. The building was old, one of the oldest buildings on campus, which was surprising when Keith had first learnt that fact, but only made sense given that the current owner’s grandfather was one of the college founders and was the architect for many of the older buildings. Even with its historic heritage, the interior of the building was curved and chrome and reminded Keith a bit of what architects would think of as “the future” decades ago.

When Keith could afford it, he would hole himself up on one of the couches in the far corner of the cafe and power through his essays on pure caffeine. Coran was an oddball, but he was weirdly kind to Keith and would give him free refills on coffee past the advertised two cups, something Keith was puzzled by but grateful for nonetheless.

Keith glanced around the very-full cafe, trying to spot a guy he thought could be named “Shiro” but without a memory of the guy, he was clueless. He scuffed his foot on the hardwood floor, feeling like maybe he should just leave, maybe it was a practical joke some asshole frat boy was playing on him when a voice sounded from his left.

“Keith?”

He turned and had to look up, to find Mr. Starry-Eyes standing just a few feet away, coffee cup in hand. A white tuft of hair flopped on his forehead and there was a thin scar across the bridge of his nose. He wore a black button-up shirt with little white polka dots all over it that accentuated his broad shoulders, a skintight black glove on his right hand.  _ Interesting. _

“Are you Shiro?” he asked, uncertain.

The guy scratched at the back of his head, embarrassed for some reason. Keith raised an eyebrow at the nervous tick.

“Yeah, I am,” Shiro said. “Here, let’s get you something to drink. Maybe eat? What would you like? I’m buying.”

Keith looked up at the menu. It wasn’t often that he could order much outside of a strong cup of coffee and maybe a cookie. His stomach growled loudly at that moment, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten that morning because of his hangover that had finally passed as his workday went on. Keith flushed and Shiro cracked a grin.

“Seriously, anything on the menu. Take your pick.”

Keith looked up at the chalkboard for a long moment and settled on the first thing that caught his eye. They walked up to the counter, and Keith was happy to see that Allura, not Lance, was behind the counter today.

“Hey Allura,” Keith said, “Can I get a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup? With an almond milk dirty chai.”

Allura glanced between Shiro and Keith, seemingly wanting to say something but holding herself back. “Of course, Keith. That’ll be $13.47.”

Shiro reached around Keith to hand Allura his credit card. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

Allura gave Shiro a look and a wink that Keith couldn’t decipher and rang them up. She turned on one foot and set about making his drink at the espresso machine on the opposite side of the bar. She handed the bright orange mug to him and waved him off with one hand.

“I’ll bring the food out to you when it’s ready, Keith,” Allura said. She arched one perfect white eyebrow at him, and he took that as his cue.

Keith and Shiro walked silently over to a table in the corner of the large, curved room. They sat across from each other, unsure of where to start.

“I—”

“So you—”

They began to speak at the same time, stopped, and laughed. Shiro scratched the back of his head with his ungloved hand, embarrassed.

“I feel bad,” Shiro said. “You don’t even remember last night, and here I am, dragging you out to a cafe like we know each other. So...let’s start fresh. Hi, I’m Takashi Shirogane. Shiro for short.”

Shiro held out his gloved right hand to Keith across the table. Keith, bemused, took the hand in his.

“Keith Kogane. A pleasure to meet you, Shiro,” Keith replied. The leather of the glove seemed unyielding in an unnatural way, piquing Keith’s interest, but he left it alone. Shiro clearly wore the glove for a reason, and it didn’t seem right to pry.

“So, Keith,” Shiro said. “Get drunk on shitty beer at house parties often?” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his heavily muscled arms in front of his chest, a look of amusement on his face.

Keith grasped the handle of his coffee cup, twisting it this way and that on the table in front of him.

“Not really. My old roommates, Lance and Pidge, they made me go out last night. They think I’ve been moping for too long and that it’s time for me to leave my apartment,” Keith said bitterly.

“Well, I’m glad they did, because if they hadn’t I don’t know if I ever would have had the courage to walk up to you after your glorious attempt at a keg stand.”

Keith snorted and took a sip of his dirty chai—perfection. He sighed happily and kept the mug close to his nose to smell. He was in heaven.

“I mean...it wasn’t my most successful attempt ever, that is to be sure.” He leaned against the back of his chair, thinking. “My ex cornered me at one of the house parties last night. I just...wanted to forget.”

Shiro grimaced. “Bad breakup?” he asked timidly.

“Bad for me, not for him,” Keith replied, taking a sip of his chai. “He told me I was cold and unfeeling. Way to slap someone in the face with your words, right?” Keith tried to crack a smile, tried to treat it as if he were joking, but the muscles in his face didn’t want to work and he gave up, hiding himself in his mug.

If Keith had been looking at Shiro’s face, he would have seen a warm look in the other man’s eyes that spoke volumes. Shiro reached out with his ungloved hand and pulled the coffee cup down from Keith’s face.

“The way I see it, just from your reactions alone, you are anything but ‘cold and unfeeling,’ Keith. Don’t let the opinion of one guy tell you otherwise,” Shiro said.

Keith flushed and set the cup to one side, tilting his head to look into Shiro’s eyes.

“That has to be the best advice anyone’s given me about this whole shitty situation. Are you a psych major or something?”

Shiro laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Actually...yeah, I am. How could you tell?”

“Oh, just the innocent honesty that cuts through a knotted situation,” Keith replied.

Shiro grinned at him. “Well, I admit you’re not an easy one to read. If that makes you feel any better?”

Keith smirked. Maybe this guy was okay after all.

Keith’s food arrived and he chowed down as delicately as his grumbling stomach could manage. Shiro finished his coffee while Keith ate and went to grab a refill. When he returned, Keith noticed a glint of metal at his wrist where the shirt sleeve had ridden up.

“What’s that?” Keith asked, unthinking, and pointed at Shiro’s wrist. “A bracelet?”

Shiro flushed and covered his wrist with his free hand, sitting down with an uncertain look on his face.

“I-it’s...nothing, really,” Shiro started to say.

Keith looked down at his empty plate, pushing some crumbs around with his pointer finger.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry...” Keith said.

“No, it’s okay,” Shiro said. “I was in a car accident last year and lost most of my right arm. I’m lucky the glass from the windshield didn’t cut a few inches further up on my face, or I would have been blinded as well, instead of getting this scar.” He tapped his nose, where the skin was puckered with scar tissue. “My family are all research scientists and have connections to labs around the world, so I’m used as a test subject for this prototype prosthesis. It just... freaks people out if they see it, so I prefer to have it covered up most of the time.”

Shiro pulled off his glove to reveal a gleaming metal and plastic hand. He wriggled the fingers, looking at them instead of Keith.

“It acts like a real hand, and a real arm, would, so if I keep it covered people treat me like I’m normal,” Shiro said, finally looking back up at Keith. From the expression on his face, he expected to see pity when he looked at Keith.

Keith reached out a hand, hovering over Shiro’s prosthetic one. “Can I?” he asked.

Shiro nodded, unsure. Keith reached out and touched Shiro’s robotic hand, twisting it and looking at it closely.

“I’m impressed. What lab is working on this kind of tech?” he said finally.

Shiro let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Keith gave Shiro a lopsided smile.

“I’m an aerospace engineering major,” Keith explained. “This isn’t exactly my area of engineering, but what they’re doing is really cool.”

The smile Shiro gave Keith then was unreadable.

“You’re surprising, you know that?” Shiro asked. “Most people stutter and look at me like I’m broken when they find out about my arm.”

Keith shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. Time seemed to escape them after that, and by the time either man looked up from their conversation, it was getting dark out. Keith’s eyes bugged out.

“Shit, has it really been two hours? Sorry, I have some homework to finish for tomorrow.” Keith scraped his chair back and grabbed his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the floor next to the table.

“Need a ride?” Shiro asked.

“Nah I’m ok, I don’t live too far from here,” Keith said. “You have my number. Don’t be a stranger.”

Keith hoofed it out the door with a quick backward glance to Shiro, who stood next to the table they’d occupied for the last two hours with an almost-wistful expression on his face.

—

Keith couldn’t stop thinking about Shiro. It had been three days since they met at that Halloween party, and while he couldn’t remember much about the party itself, the coffee almost-date they’d had weighed on his mind. They texted back and forth but had never managed to connect after that first day.

It was Sunday, and Keith had a midterm paper due the next day that he was crunching trying to finish. He groaned in frustration, scratching at his scalp with one hand. He just didn’t understand why cost allocation could be important in the long run, especially when he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life after college. He groaned at himself and took another long sip of his redbull from the bedside table when a  _ ping _ went off from his phone, lost somewhere in the covers of his bed.

Keith shuffled around in the duvet, unable to find that mysteriously-missing device. He growled and pulled the entire blanket up, shaking it out over the bed. His phone fell on the ground beside his bed and he flopped on his belly, stretching out to reach the phone on his carpet without leaving the comfort of his bed. Keith blinked at the notification.

_ <hey keith, what are you up to tomorrow? _

_ >wallowing in midterms. Why? _

_ <haha. Want to come over and watch V for Vendetta? _

Keith tilted his head in confusion.

_ >never heard of it. _

_ <YOU”VE NEVER HEARD OF V FOR VENDETTA?? Ok you HAVE to come over tomorrow. Im in Atlas Tower, apartment 215. Promise me you’ll come over, you wont regret it. _

Keith could feel something stirring in his chest. A hint of amusement and...something else.

_ >ok, i promise ill be there. What time? _

_ <wanna do pizza? Say, 5pm? _

_ >sound good, see you then _

Keith locked his phone and threw it back on the floor. Looked like he needed to get that essay finished if he wanted to be un-distracted the next day.

—

Keith rang the doorbell, glancing around. Apartment complexes weren’t the nicest places in the world, but his felt like a dump compared to this one. Atlas Tower was probably the most expensive apartment complex around Garrison U, and he could feel it from the fixtures and the fact that the paint wasn’t chipped all over the buildings like his building was. Keith stuffed his hands as far as he could go in his red hoodie pockets and grimaced. He didn’t belong here, and he knew it.

The door opened on Shiro’s smiling face.

“Keith, you made it!” he said cheerily. Shiro noticed Keith’s sour expression. “Everything okay?”

Keith shucked his feelings about the expense of the complex and forced himself to smile back up at Shiro. Damn, but the man was tall. Shiro was wearing a tight-fitting black hoodie over what looked like a purple galaxy-patterned tank top. Keith could just make out the edges of some scar tissue on the other man’s chest, but he ignored that. Shiro’s left hand was shoved in his loose grey sweats’ pocket, and he leaned with ease against the doorframe with his right, his prosthetic hand ungloved, staring down at Keith.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired after finishing my midterm I was writing yesterday.”

“C’mon in, Keith,” Shiro motioned for Keith to enter the apartment. “I haven’t ordered anything yet because I realized I didn’t know what you like. Say the word, and pizza will be on its way.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow at Shiro. May as well test him. “Hawaiian all the way.”

Shiro broke out into a broad grin. “My favorite.”

Keith’s eyebrows rose, surprise clear on his face.

“I usually get disgusted looks when people find out I like pineapple on my pizza,” Shiro said. “Nice to have a fellow rebel.”

Shiro pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the pizza place, which was clearly on his speed dial since he didn’t have to spend any time searching.

While Shiro ordered the pizza, Keith wandered around the apartment. It was nice, very clean, and - Keith was secretly happy to note - sparsely furnished. He couldn’t have handled it if Shiro had had anything fancy on top of being in such an expensive apartment. The couch, sitting in pride of place across from a gigantic flat-screen TV, had clearly seen better days, but was plush and looked extremely comfortable.

There were a few trophies on the mantle above the fireplace, and Keith walked over to take a closer look at them. Shiro-boy had been in cross country and track. Keith whistled at the trophies and medals. Pretty impressive; he had been a loner and an artist in high school and was still a loner and an artist in college. Just one that was forced to study aerospace engineering because he knew better than to expect to make any money as an artist, especially in the way the world was nowadays.

“Do you like running?” Shiro asked from behind Keith.

He whirled around, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“I hate it, actually,” Keith said, one side of his mouth quirking up in a self-deprecating smile. “I get all hot and sweaty, and if I’m lucky I don’t faint from heatstroke.”

Shiro laughed.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me forcing you on a surprise run or anything. I’ve retired from my running career, though I do run for fun a couple times a week.”

“That...doesn’t sound like ‘retired’ to me,” Keith said, raising his hands to form air quotes.

“It is for a runner. Believe me. Besides, it’s too hard to run track with my arm as it is now,” Shiro replied. “Pizza will be here in twenty minutes. You want a beer or something while we wait? We can start the movie too.”

“Sounds good,” Keith said. He kicked off his sneakers and settled into the couch. He sunk into it in a way that made him feel enveloped in warmth; perfect for this cold autumn day.

“I’ll be right back. You cool with Blue Moon? It’s not shitty college party beer, I know, but it’s what I have,” Shiro said over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen area of the open living room.

Keith snorted. “I’m never going to live that down, am I? Blue Moon’s perfect.”

Shiro pulled the bottles out of his fridge, chuckling. “Not for a while, at least.” He popped the caps off and tossed them into the recycling on his way back over to the couch. He handed Keith one of the beers and plopped down onto the couch next to Keith. Shiro clinked the bottom of his bottle with the one in Keith’s hand.

“To new adventures?” Shiro asked, staring into Keith’s eyes. His eyes sparkled, that same sparkle that was one of the few things Keith remembered from the house party when they met.

He grinned. “To new adventures.”

They settled into the couch, leaning comfortably against one another. Shiro snagged the remote from his coffee table and queued up the movie. Over the next two hours, they only got up from their comfortable positions on the couch twice. Once, for Shiro to grab the pizza from the delivery guy, and the other for Keith to grab them each another beer from the fridge.

By the end of the movie, Keith found himself snuggled up against Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro’s left arm wrapped loosely around him. He sighed, content with the evening and feeling something more burning in his chest. Keith glanced up at Shiro and discovered that he was looking down at him.

Keith eased himself up, not wanting to break their contact.

“Okay, I know I’m pretty oblivious, so tell me if I’m reading this wrong—” he started to say.

“You’re not,” Shiro whispered, reaching out with his free hand to cup Keith’s cheek.

“Oh. Good,” Keith said, and he leaned into Shiro to brush lips against lips. He was tentative at first, unsure, but Shiro tugged him closer and deepened the kiss, and Keith groaned against that hot mouth. It was difficult to get comfortable leaning sideways on the couch and Keith growled in frustration, breaking away from Shiro only to swing his leg over to straddle the other man’s hips.

“That’s better,” Keith said huskily and leaned back in to kiss Shiro again, and again, and again.

—

The next morning, Keith blinked blearily at the bright light streaming through unfamiliar windows and remembered the night before. He smiled and turned to snuggle against Shiro, his cheek pillowed on Shiro’s naked chest. Who’d have thought that a drunken Halloween night would have lead to this?

Maybe Lance and Pidge were good for something after all. Not that he’d tell them that.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do college AUs always run away from me?? This was SUPPOSED to be 500 words....ha!


End file.
